Touch
by purrpickle
Summary: It's Rachel who's effected, but it's Santana who needs comforting. Established Pezberry, now a two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do not own Glee nor the characters within. I have been on an angst kick lately, it seems. Anyway, here's a little Pezberry angsty fluff for you.

* * *

Santana's nose was strong, her lips plump. The lines of her cheekbones led up to her eyes, and Rachel could feel her long eyelashes flutter against her palms. A slide of wetness, and Rachel paused. "Santana?" she asked, "Are you crying?"

Warm fingers came up to catch her wrists, pulling Rachel's hands down to either side of Santana's neck. "Will you… Will you remember what I look like?" Santana whispered, voice thick and ashamed, her throat vibrating in Rachel's grip.

Feeling the prick of her own tears at the back of her eyes, Rachel pulled Santana in, tucking her head into the crook of her neck. "I'll never forget what you look like," she whispered softly against dark hair, believing it, "The day you asked me out, looking so fierce yet unsure. The day you first kissed me, wonder sliding across your face before you tried to hide it behind your 'bad-ass' persona. The day at the beach when you jumped out of the way of a little kid on a scooter and ended up falling off the boardwalk, ruining your clothes and wallet and phone – everything. Do you remember that?"

"How could I not? Damn kid." Santana grumbled faintly, then pressed a soft kiss against Rachel's skin. "I remember you helped pull me out, babbling in panic and running your hands all over my body to make sure that I hadn't hurt myself somehow. I may have been mad at the kid, but your kiss made it all better."

Rachel smiled, moving back to place a slightly clumsy kiss against the corner of Santana's lips, Santana smoothly shifting her head to fix the angle. They kissed softly, melting into the familiarity. Pulling back, Rachel disappeared into her memory again, "You know, I remember how awful the taste of the seawater was on your lips, but I didn't care because you were okay."

"Yeah, I was okay." Santana's voice was soft again, her hand coming up to stroke Rachel's cheek, brushing hair behind her ear. "Rachel," she murmured, pausing, and Rachel could feel her warm breath close to her mouth, making her shiver, "We'll… You'll be okay, right?"

Rachel knew the question meant more than it sounded, as well as Santana hated herself for asking it. "Yeah," she said quietly, feeling Santana's arms tighten around her, the sobs Santana couldn't hold back anymore drumming against her chest, "As long as I can feel you, I'll be okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **PLEASE READ** ***blinks* Wow. I'm very surprised. Something happened that I hadn't expected. But, reading over the fic again, I realized that yeah, it could be that way. You see, since _I _knew what was going on, and alluded to it, I _had no idea _that it would be taken another way! In two reviews I've gotten, they were convinced that it was Santana who had something happen to her. And god, reading over it again, _damn _it sounds like she's dying.

But that hadn't been what I'd meant. *shakes her head at herself* I'm hesitant of revealing what it was that I was thinking was happening when I wrote it, but in the words of Santana: I gots to get to Breadstix! …Or something. It'll make the summary make sense, anyway. So. In _my _head, what was going on was that Rachel had gone blind or was going blind, and Santana was freaking out more than Rachel was (at least at that moment).

…So, did anyone see that? I'm curious! If you didn't, go back and read the first chapter again (if you want to), and see if you see it now.

Now, because I _detest _when authors just post an author's note and that's it, I am now going to write some sort of continuation. I haven't decided if I'll write out both scenarios or not, yet…

Also, I'm not a doctor, and am kind of writing this without much information, so sorry for lack of specifics.

* * *

It started slowly. When she would walk through a room she'd walked through thousands of times before, she seemed to misjudge distances and bang into things she'd never hit before. She began complaining about her eyesight becoming a little blurry, then a little more blurry, then blurry enough that she needed to get glasses. It was a little concerning, but it didn't threaten her career (audiences couldn't see contacts), and besides, Santana thought Rachel looked incredibly sexy with glasses on.

However, when Santana found herself catching Rachel when she would slip going up or down stairs, she began to realize something was happening. Her girlfriend would try to downplay the accidents, insisting she was okay and just a little distracted. Not wanting to press Rachel too hard, knowing how proud she was, and convinced that if something truly _was _happening, her health-conscious girlfriend would handle it, Santana tried to shake off her worry.

Then, a month after Rachel started complaining about her eyesight going bad, she walked into their apartment white faced and trembling. Heading straight for Santana's arms, she broke down, crying inconsolably. It'd taken Santana nearly an hour to calm Rachel down enough to find out that no one had harmed her, and another hour to get Rachel to start talking in a voice that shook.

After an accident that had happened at rehearsal two days before (Santana narrowed her eyes at never having been told about it, but held her tongue) where Rachel had completely missed a cue, misjudged where she was, and tumbled down a small set of stairs, thankfully coming out practically unharmed, the brunette had stopped lying to herself and scheduled an appointment with her ophthalmologist.

And what he'd found was alarming. Though he hadn't been able to tell her _why _yet, Rachel was losing her sight. He didn't know how far the loss would go, but follow up appointments had been scheduled, as well as brain scans and other tests that terrified her to think of what they could find.

Santana sat there, holding Rachel tightly to her, jaw clenched like iron. Depending on if the affliction couldn't be stopped or cured, Rachel would lose everything she'd ever wanted. Feeling the smaller woman shaking and crying again, Santana made a split second decision she knew she would never change. Grabbing both sides of Rachel's face, she pulled her into a passionate kiss, pouring all her love into it. "Baby," she said forcefully, making sure Rachel was actually listening to her words and hearing the truth in them, "We'll get through this, okay? Whatever happens, whatever we have to do to make this work, I'll always be with you. So much you'll get sick of me."

"But…" Rachel's lower lip trembled, tears overflowing and running down her cheeks, "W-what if I become a burden – ?"

Santana crushed their mouths together again. "None of that!" she hissed, shaking her head violently. "When I asked you to marry me," her thumb brushed over the ring she'd given Rachel two months ago, and she squeezed Rachel's hand, "I meant it. Through sickness and in health. You're stuck with me."

And Santana had kept her word. It hadn't been easy at times, but she never thought once of leaving Rachel. But as the reality of what was happening was sinking in for the two of them, Santana found herself sometimes being more upset than Rachel. She started worrying about the stupidest things, wanting to somehow cement certain things into Rachel's mind so she wouldn't forget what they looked like. She selfishly wanted Rachel's last image before she lost her sight completely to be of herself.

So, when Rachel reached the point of almost total blindness and asked if she could trace Santana's face, Santana lost it. She had been strong for Rachel for so long, not wanting to give her any more worry than she already had. But as Rachel determinedly mapped her face, her brow furrowed as she concentrated, eyes slightly cross-eyed, Santana had stared at her, each touch translating into an electric barb that pierced her heart. She started crying. She asked the questions she hated herself for asking, revealing her selfish desires, as well as practically beg Rachel to tell her that everything would be okay.

But Rachel had understood. And as Santana sobbed into her chest, clutching her smaller body tightly in her arms, Santana knew she had never loved her fiancée more.


End file.
